


GCPD Secret Santa Scheme

by Kateera



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Gift Giving, Jimwald, M/M, Secret Santa, gobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateera/pseuds/Kateera
Summary: The Gotham City Police Department has it's first Secret Santa exchange and Jim is amazed by the level of care and detail in his gifts. He doesn't know who this person is, but he can't wait to meet them.





	GCPD Secret Santa Scheme

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me around the time I started planning for Christmas and I needed all the fluff for these two. With Secret Santa on the prompt bingo card, it was like fate! :D I hope you enjoy and please, comments keep me going in these long winter nights.
> 
> Thank you to the ever wonderful [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder) for beta-ing!
> 
> All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> Check me out on [tumblr](http://kateera.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/kateera_) to say hi and ask questions and flail over Gobblepot.

 

**December 1st**

 

“Alright, everyone has a name and I’m done holding this bucket. Merry Christmas, get back to work.” Harvey stepped down off the chair and handed the bucket to the closest officer. “Thanks, Johnson.”

“Merry Christmas, sir,” Johnson said and tipped his hat as he walked away.

Jim pushed himself off the desk he’d been leaning on and met Harvey halfway across the bullpen with a scowl. “Secret Santas? Really, Harvey? This is how you plan to bring everyone together?”

“Don’t you start with me, Jim.” Harvey pushed him over into a corner. “This station is set to explode at the slightest touch and I’m not about to see someone go ballistic on Christmas.” He gave Jim a pat on the back. “Besides, everyone loves gifts.”

Jim kept his arms crossed, but couldn’t fault Harvey for trying to bring a little of the holiday spirit into the station. “You love gifts, you mean.”

Harvey grinned and walked backwards towards his office. “I like peace and quiet, but this is Gotham. I’ll settle for a real nice watch.”

Shaking his head, Jim settled into his work and put the whole idea out of his head.

 

**December 5th**

 

A plainly wrapped package sat on Jim’s desk when he arrived, a simple white envelope sitting on top of it and his name written in block letters. Turning around, Jim frowned at the slow stream of police officers filling the bullpen, but no one met his eyes and he returned to the package. He opened the envelope and a small card fell out, his name on one side in the same blocky lettering and on the other side were the words ‘From Your Secret Santa’.

He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned, the holiday gift exchange finally popping back into his head.

 _Shit, I’ve gotta find something for Brandie_.

With his suspicions put to rest, Jim popped open the box and stared down at its contents. Nestled among green and red tissue paper, sat a pair of leather gloves and a long woolen scarf. Jim pulled out both items and saw that the lining of the gloves matched the understated blue and black checkered pattern of the scarf. From the feel of the wool to the supple bend of the gloves, Jim concluded that the gift was not only practical but quite expensive.

_This is way too much._

Marching to Harvey’s office, Jim barged in and waved the gloves in Harvey’s face. “I don’t know what's going on, but I can’t accept these!”

“Woah, woah,” Harvey said, setting down his coffee. “You alright? Someone try to bribe you?” He looked at Jim’s hands. “With gloves?”

“Wasn't there some cap on how much a person could spend with this stupid Santa thing?” Jim felt his face flush, the silliness of the whole thing hitting him.

Harvey laughed and Jim wanted to hide under his desk for the rest of the day.

“Jim, be grateful someone in this office likes you,” Harvey said, handing him a file. “Now go catch bad guys.”

Jim grabbed the file and stomped back to his desk. Staring down at the scarf and gloves, he sighed and rubbed the material between his fingers. He knew he was being paranoid, that someone probably saw his ratty old gray gloves and saw the gift as a nice gesture. Feeling like an ass, he slipped the scarf around his neck and pushed the gloves into his pocket and focused on his case.

 

**December 11th**

 

Jim arrived at work to another package sitting on his desk, a larger box this time and wrapped in shiny silver paper with a small blue bow sitting on top. He slipped off his gloves and pulled off his scarf, more than grateful for the accessories during the cold of the last week. A small envelope sat on top and he opened it as he sat down. The simple card read ‘From your Secret Santa, for the cold days ahead’.

He picked up the box and shook it, but nothing rattled or shifted. “This is ridiculous.”

Tearing into the shiny paper, he pulled the lid off the box and pushed aside a bundle of tissue paper, pulling out a long heavy coat. Made of gray wool and lined with the same dark blue checked pattern as his scarf, it hung to his knees and looked warm enough for the biting wind of Gotham.

“What the hell?”

“Wow, Jim. Someone thinks you’re special,” Harvey said, coming up behind him and feeling the fabric of the coat. “You got some kind of sugar momma we don’t know about?”

Jim handed him the card and slipped the coat on over his suit. It fit like a dream and warmth sank into his bones.

“No way. I got saddled with some loser from processing who thinks gag gifts are funny and you land Richie Rich?” Harvey threw the card on Jim’s desk. “I gotta find a way to rig this next year.”

Jim laughed and buttoned up his new coat. “You’re the one who told me to embrace the whole ridiculous idea.”

“Yeah, but usually people think you like hard booze and dim lighting, not-” He gestured to the coat and scarf. “-this.”

Pulling on his gloves and grabbing his newest case file off his desk, Jim gave Harvey a pat on the shoulder as he walked past. “Hey, I thought the punching coffee cup was pretty funny.”

“I’m knocking you back down to traffic cop,” Harvey said with a scowl.

“Hey, where’s your holiday spirit?” Jim asked with a smile. “Now if you will excuse me, I have some people to question and apartments to search.”

Harvey waved him away and Jim shook his head as he headed for his car. The coat might be extravagant as far as gifts go, but he was grateful for the warmth. His old tattered coat with its ripped lining and missing buttons might have sentimental value, but it didn’t keep the biting wind of a Gotham winter at bay. Bundled up in his new coat and scarf, Jim wrinkled his brow and pulled out his notebook. He’d stashed the name he’d taken from the bucket inside the slim book and as he read the name and idea list, he laughed and tucked it back in his pocket.

_Brandie likes cats and wrestling. The things you learn about people._

 

**December 18th**

 

Watching Brandie, security guard for the evidence locker, open her present brought a smile to Jim’s lips and he ducked down as she looked around the room, concentrating on the police report in front of him. The tickets hadn’t been cheap, but Brandie’s glee at the front row seats to Gotham’s SMASHATHON inside a cookie jar shaped like a siamese cat, made the hit to his pocket book worth it.

_Maybe Harvey was onto something with this charade._

“Delivery for Detective Gordon!”

Jim looked down and waved the bike messenger up the stairs. “Over here.”

Dragging her bike up the stairs, the young messenger held out a large bag, the logo of Jim’s favorite coffee shop emblazoned on the side.

“I’ll need you to sign for it,” she said as Jim took the package.

Grabbing her clipboard, he signed his name in the appropriate box and glanced at the ‘From’ box to see a few random letters and numbers.

“Can I ask who sent this?” Jim handed back her clipboard and she she shrugged.

“You can ask, but I can’t tell ya.” Pointing finger guns at him, she winked and then turned and dragged her bike back down the stairs and out the door.

Jim opened the bag to find the familiar white envelope on top and a beautifully decorated box beneath it. The card inside crinkled with gold foil and he read it with a smile on his face.

‘From your Secret Santa, because the swill in this place is atrocious.’

Jim smiled wider and opened the decorative box. Inside, nestled among strips of green and red paper, was a pound of his favorite coffee, a mini brew pot, a large travel mug with the words ‘Here to Kick Ass & Drink Coffee, & I Just Finished My Coffee’, and a small card that notified him of his monthly delivery date.

_Holy shit._

Those who knew Jim, really knew him, were fully aware of his coffee snob tendencies and while he could drink the office swill without flinching, the idea of never drinking it again brought a huge smile to his face.

“There’s the happy face I wanted to see,” Harvey said, looking up at him from the bullpen. “You get laid?”

“Is it you?” Jim asked, holding up the box and looking his former partner in the eyes.

“Like I would be so mushy,” Harvey said, his eyes holding nothing but the truth.

“Oh, good then.” Jim set the box down. “I won’t have to ask you to marry me then.”

Harvey snorted. “You can ask, Jimbo, but you know you ain’t my type.”

Jim kept smiling as he pulled out the coffee mug and his precious beans. “I’m making coffee, want some?”

“Will you marry me, Jim?” Harvey asked with a straight face.

“Sorry, Harv,” Jim said patting his shoulder. “I’m saving myself for my Secret Santa.”

“Who knew coffee was the way to your heart?” Harvey pouted for a moment, but then smiled and followed Jim into the station’s kitchen.

Jim hummed and pulled out the little brew pot, plugging it into the wall. “I’m dying to know who they are. That coat is amazing, but this coffee, I mean, smell it.”

He held the bag out and Harvey took a small sniff.

“It’s coffee. It’s not some fine wine,” Harvey said with a shrug. “It’s supposed to keep you going when you shouldn’t be and that’s about it.”

Jim shook his head. “Peasant.”

“Sorry to offend you and your coffee,” Harvey said, not sounding sorry in the least.

Jim laughed and slid a filter into the brew pot, pouring some of the grounds into the top and filling the back with water. Placing his mug under the spout, he watched his coffee drip into the container.

_Someone’s gone through a whole lot of trouble for me. This department is very short on people who like me, much less this much._

When his mug was full, he placed a Styrofoam cup under the spout and filled it up for Harvey. Turning off the pot, he held the cup out to Harvey and grinned.

“To the coffee fairy.”

“To you getting some work done now,” Harvey returned and walked out of the kitchen.

Jim snorted and spent a few minutes cleaning up the pot and tucking it back into the box. There was no way he was leaving his gift in the kitchen to be demolished by the station vultures. He took a sip from his mug and sighed.

 _Asking a stranger to marry me wouldn’t be weird, not for a lifetime supply of this._  
  


**December 22nd**

 

The bullpen was decorated with silver garland and blinking red and green lights and even the lab had a wreath hanging on the door. Jim had never seen the place looking so cheerful and bright and he walked into Harvey’s office with a small smile. Harvey looked up from his desk and wrinkled his brow.

“What’s happened now?” He asked, placing a cap on his pen and leaning back in his chair.

Jim shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m here to say you were right. We needed a little holiday fun here. I haven’t seen so many smiles since, well, ever I think.”

Harvey grinned. “It’s been good, right? We’ve actually had witnesses willing to talk to the cops and that don’t happen every day in Gotham.”

“Let’s hope it lasts,” Jim said, holding out his hand.

“Ha, maybe through Christmas, but then people will remember that they hate each other and it’ll be back to normal.” Harvey shook Jim’s hand. “Still, a little rest is good for the soul.”

“Fortune cookie?”

“Miss Sugar,” Harvey said with a fond smile.

“Right.” Jim clapped him on the back. “Forget I asked.”

He walked out of the office and to his desk, sidestepping a group of officers showing off their Christmas sweaters. On his desk sat a plainly wrapped box in red and white striped paper with a white envelope attached to the top. Jim felt his heartbeat increase and his pulse quicken.

_I don’t know if I can take much more of this._

The identity of the secret gift giver haunted Jim’s dreams, a brush of kindness across his world that had him twisting in his sheets. Whoever this person was, Jim couldn’t wait to find out their name, why they were treating him like something special, and if they were single.

_It’s not even the gifts, it’s the thought that someone’s paid this much attention to me._

Opening the envelope, Jim read the card and smiled at message.

‘From your Secret Santa, because everyone deserves a treat now and then’.

Jim opened the box, taking care not to rip the wrapping paper, and opened the lid Inside sat three carefully wrapped packages of cookies. They looked homemade and when he pulled one of the packages apart, he could feel the tears forming in his eyes. They were gingersnap cookies, smelling of molasses and spice and everything he remembered from his grandmother's kitchen. After his dad’s death, his grandmother would swoop down and carry him to his house on occasional weekends and she would bake and he would read and they would pretend like the outside world didn’t swirl around them.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Jim placed the cookies back in their package, his hands shaking so badly that he knocked one of the packs over to reveal a small envelope underneath. Pulling out the clean white envelope, he opened it and stared down at the card.

‘December 24th, Ginelli’s, 6 o’clock’.

There was no name on the linen card stock, but Jim could hardly catch his breath.

_I’ll get to meet them. This feels like a date, or a trap._

Looking back down at the small cookies in his box, he couldn’t conceive of any reason why someone who knew how to make his grandmother’s gingersnap cookies would do all of this to trick him.

He slipped the card into his jacket pocket and stood up, eager to get through the next couple of days and meet the person who knew him so well  
  


**December 24th**

 

Ginelli’s sat tucked in a side street between a bank branch office and an antique store. It looked quaint and slow, though Jim conceded that most of the smaller businesses in town would be closed for the holiday at this point and everyone else was at home getting ready for the chaos of tomorrow. He looked back down at the card, the black ink as stark and finely written as every other time he’d pulled it out of his pocket.

Having a crush on someone he didn’t even know seemed odd and unsettling, but he couldn’t help the rush of excitement coursing through him. When he’d tasted that first cookie, he’d cried and hid the box in a cabinet in his kitchen, overcome with emotion and willing to do anything for the person who’d returned a piece of his childhood to him.

Steadying his nerves, Jim placed the card back in his pocket and entered the restaurant. The dim lighting showcased brown and red walls where paintings of Italy hung in ornate heavy frames. The smell of garlic and tomatoes hit his nose and Jim’s mouth watered in response. At a table in the back stood a tall man with brown hair cut short and his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

_Edgar from dispatch?_

Disappointment streaked through Jim as he approached. Edgar Despain was married and had twin girls he couldn’t stop bragging about and was in no way someone who’d ever want a relationship with someone like Jim.

_Not that I’d be into having an affair._

He reached the table and held out his hand. “Edgar, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Um, thanks.” Edgar scratched the side of his nose. “I’m glad you liked everything.”

“Liked? How did you know about the coffee? Or that my coat was ruined? Or my grandmother’s cookies?” Jim laughed and took a step back. “I could kiss you for those alone.”

Edgar blushed and Jim looked at the floor, embarrassed by his rambling.

“I um, to tell you the truth. I had help.” Edgar stepped away from the table and turned to the back corner where a figure sat in the dark shadows.

“I did my part,” Edgar said, wiping a hand across his brow. “You do yours then, right?”

The figure stood up and Jim almost swallowed his tongue at the familiar silhouette of Oswald Cobblepot.

“Of course,” Oswald said, stepping forward with a smile. “Consider all debts paid in full.”

Edgar bobbed his head and rushed out of the restaurant as if a herd of angry bulls raged behind him. Jim turned to Oswald and cocked an eyebrow.

“Dinner? I’m sure you must be starving.” Oswald pointed to the set table and Jim took one of the chairs, carefully sliding his coat off and over the back.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” Oswald continued as he sat and ushered a man over with a wave of his hand. “But Mario here would really like to get busy in the kitchen, so if you don’t mind, we should order first.”

Jim looked at Oswald, looked at Mario, and then looked at the menu. “I’ll take your beef Tenderloin and roasted zucchini.”

Oswald smiled and nodded his approval. “That sounds delicious. I’ll have the same.”

Mario bowed and scurried off to the kitchen, but before Jim could open his mouth, a young woman approached the table with water glasses and a platter filled with small slices of crusty bread topped with tomato and mozzarella.

“Bruschetta Pizzaiola,” she said in a small voice. “Compliments of the chef.”

“Thank you, Isabelle,” Oswald said, waving away the wine menu she held out. “I would rather we have clear heads, but thank you.”

She nodded and walked back into the  kitchen. Jim’s stomach growled at the smell of food and the sound caused Oswald to chuckle.

“Go on, ask your questions while you eat.” Oswald picked up his water and took a sip. “I won’t mind.”

“Why?” Jim asked, picking up a piece of bread and taking a bite, letting the flavors of fresh herbs and tomato fill his mouth.

“Jim, that’s the biggest question of them all,” Oswald said, playing with the handle of his umbrella. “You might want to work up to that one.”

Jim finished off his bread and took another, staring down at it as he formed his next question. “Is this some kind of game to you?”

Oswald slowly blinked and looked to the floor for a moment before raising his head to meet Jim’s eyes. “No, Jim. This isn’t a game for me.”

“How did you find out about the coffee? The cookies? I suppose the coat would be fairly obvious, but knowing I like cinnamon coffee or knowing-” Jim stopped and swallowed the lump of nerves clawing at his throat. “The cookies?”

Oswald nodded and leaned forward, placing a piece of the bread on his plate while he talked. “Yes, the coat was quite easy to figure out. Your old one looked like a large animal of some sort had attacked you, and won.” Looking up at Jim, Oswald smiled his wide, mischievous grin. “As for the coffee, you’re not as subtle with your coffee order early in the morning as you are in the afternoon and I’m a bit of a morning person when I have to be.”

Oswald’s grin was making Jim’s chest and neck warm. He knew he should be outraged at the idea of someone following him and learning his habits, but at this moment, he couldn’t find a reason to care. That someone had been Oswald and he’d done it to make Jim feel special. Feeling special was something Jim hadn’t felt in a long time.

_He’s always treated me like I matter. Why didn’t I suspect him earlier?_

_Because you run from this every time it comes up._

The thought sobered Jim and he ate his next piece of bread in silence, digesting the notion that he ran from Oswald, not because he loathed the man, but for the exact opposite reason.

_Shit._

“The cookies were a challenge,” Oswald said, seemingly unaware of Jim’s current crisis. “I knew I wanted to bring you something that reminded you of your past, but I was at a loss until I dug up an article of your father’s passing.”

Jim grunted, his mind a whirl of events now colored in with all the facts his heart hid from him. No matter how bad it got, he knew he could turn to Oswald when he needed help, even if they’d been at each other’s throats moments before.

_And aren’t all those times when you want to wring his neck so very charged, like you could kiss him instead of kill him._

“I saw the family photo, how your grandmother held you while your mother stood off to the side and decided to track her down.” Oswald stopped and took a bite of food before continuing. “From there, I reached a friend of hers and got the famous gingersnap story, dug up a recipe that fit with the time she would have learned to make them, and hoped.”

Jim took in all the information and stared at Oswald in disbelief. “You went through all that trouble, for cookies?”

Oswald stared at him, those bright eyes burning their way into his skull. “Scent and taste are powerful triggers, Jim. They can bring us back to moments we’d thought we’d forgot.”

“My grandmother would kidnap me from my mother when things were bad,” Jim said, glancing up to see he had Oswald’s full attention. “She’d sit me in the kitchen while she made my favorite gingersnap cookies and tell me to read to her. It felt like the only time the world didn’t hurt.”

Oswald reached forward and patted Jim’s hand. “I’m glad you had someone like her then.”

Jim looked at his hand, still feeling the phantom warmth of Oswald’s touch. “Thank you.” Meeting Oswald’s eyes, Jim smiled. “I’d forgotten and you found a way to gift me a piece of her. I don’t know if anyone’s ever given me anything more valuable.”

The blush across Oswald’s nose and cheeks sent blood rushing to Jim’s groin and he shifted in his seat to hide the reaction. He was saved by the appearance of Mario. He placed two plates on the table, each steaming with beef dressed in balsamic vinegar and herb brushed vegetables.

“Bon appetit,” Mario said, his thick accent breaking the tension.

Jim smiled at Oswald, a true smile that shone from his eyes, and delighted in watching his blush deepen. Turning his attention to the food, Jim cut into his meal and Oswald followed his lead.

They ate and talked about the holiday cheer spreading around the station and the city, how Gotham felt more inviting in the cold month of December than in the rainy days of summer, and whether or not The Gotham Knights had a chance of beating Metropoliz this year. Jim couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a meal that didn’t involve tense silence or copious amounts of alcohol.

Dessert was a simple raspberry tart served with espresso and Jim licked the raspberry juice from his fingers and watched Oswald’s eyes dilate.

“What did you have on Edgar?” Jim asked, keeping his voice light, as if he had no clue about the effect his action were having on Oswald.

Oswald shook his head and blinked before responding. “The man is a hopeless gambler. He keeps thinking he’ll win big and give his wife a life she’s always dreamed of.”

“So he owed his bookie?”

“Oh, well yes,” Oswald said with a laugh. “But now he’s also banned from every gaming establishment per my orders and he thanked me for the extra security to his bank account.”

“He’s got no self-control, so he’s taking away his options,” Jim said slowly.

“Now if he enters a gambling establishment in this city, he gets thrown out,” Oswald told him, laughing at the ridiculous request.

Jim laughed and shook his head. “The things people do. Well, at least you’re helping his family.”

“I do what I can.” Oswald took another sip of water and swirled his glass. “He’s a good man with a weakness is all.”

“Every man has one.” Jim looked out the window and gasped. “When did it start snowing?”

Oswald turned and looked at the large flakes drifting down. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You, not paying attention,” Jim teased. “That’s one for the record books.”

“My mind was otherwise occupied,” Oswald said, the words causing the tension to rush back between them, the air taut with unspoken words.

Jim stood up and grabbed his coat, slipping into its warmth and buttoning up against the cold. “You ready?”

“For what?” Oswald asked, waving Mario over and slipping an envelope into his hand.

“For what comes next,” Jim said, relishing the confusion in Oswald’s eyes.

“And what comes next?”

“You’ll see.”

Oswald huffed, but stood and fetched his own coat from the back table, the black fabric making his pale skin glow in the soft light of the room. He pulled out a phone and said something rushed into the speaker and Jim was hit by the final realization of the night.

Walking over to Jim, using his umbrella as a cane, Oswald waved his phone. “I called for a car. It should be here shortly. I can drop you off at home if you’d like.”

_I want him._

Jim wanted a safe Gotham, respect from his fellow officers, and he wanted Oswald in his bed. Only one of those things seemed reachable at the moment and he let the fight against his desire drain away and dissipate under the force of Oswald’s care.

“If it’s not any trouble,” Jim said in a low voice, his heart pounding at the way Oswald seemed to shiver at his tone.

They walked out of the restaurant together and Jim watched the snow swirl around them and a nearby light post. The streets were empty and the sounds of the city were muffled by the falling snow.

“You first asked me why,” Oswald said as he shuffled closer to Jim. “You haven’t asked again.”

“I know,” Jim said, taking a step towards Oswald, the familiar disregard for personal space making him shiver.

“Did you want to ask again?” The quiver in Oswald’s voice broke through Jim’s last inch of restraint.

Reaching up to touch Oswald’s cheek, Jim leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was nothing more than a touch, a light caress that could barely be called a kiss, but Jim felt Oswald shudder under the weight of his touch.

“I don’t think I need to ask,” Jim whispered, touching their foreheads together. “Unless I’ve seriously misread this entire venture.”

Oswald gulped and shivered, but shook his head. “No, no, you did-didn’t misread, but I never-”

“Never thought it’d work?” Jim asked with a soft smile, his thumb running across Oswald’s cheekbone. “Then why did you try?”

“Maybe Edgar’s not the only hopeless gambler.” A small nervous laugh followed Oswald’s statement.

Widening his smile, Jim lowered his hand to wrap both arms around Oswald’s waist. “Not so hopeless then.”

“Jim, are you sure?” Oswald asked and he looked like the words had been ripped out of him before he could catch them.

Kissing him again, feeling the slide of warm lips against his, Jim held him close and hoped Oswald could feel how sure he was. The bright blast of light from an approaching car broke them apart, but Jim found Oswald’s hand and held on as the car slowed and the driver hopped out.

“Sorry I’m late, sir,” the driver said. “The snow is getting bad.”

Oswald didn’t say anything and Jim followed his lead, sliding into the warm car and letting the driver close the door. Oswald gave the driver directions to Jim’s place and the man had enough brains not to comment on the way his voice broke as he talked. Jim didn’t let go of Oswald’s hand as they headed to his apartment, running his thumb across the back and down his long fingers.

Arriving at Jim’s apartment, Oswald fidgeted in the back seat and Jim didn’t try to erase the first thought in his mind.

_He’s adorable when he’s flustered._

“Did you want to come up?” Jim asked, opening the door and stepping out into the snow.

Oswald followed him, nodding slightly as he closed the door behind him. When the driver popped his head out of his open window, Oswald waved him away and he nodded, driving off without a word.

The realization that he was about to have Oswald in his apartment, an invited Oswald, shook Jim down to his shoes. Placing a hand on Oswald’s elbow, he led them towards the door.

“I’m sorry if it’s small, and a mess,” Jim said. “I don’t usually have company over.”

“That’s alright,” Oswald said with a small chuckle. “I’ll be fine.”

Jim nodded and opened the door to the building, cursing at the fact that he lived on the third floor of a building with no working elevator.

“What is it?” Oswald asked, his face twisted in concern and a hint of fear.

“I live on the third floor,” Jim said in a regretful voice. “There’s also no elevator.”

Oswald laughed. “I’m not completely helpless, Jim.”

“I know, I just, I-” He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound patronizing. “I’m sorry, is all.”

“Lead the way,” Oswald said with a wave.

Jim normally took the stairs as fast as he could, but this time he slowed down and kept pace with Oswald as he limped up the two flights of stairs to reach Jim’s apartment. The closer they got to Jim’s apartment, the more nervous he became about what might happen. He’d invited Oswald on impulse, not wanting the night to end without holding him again, but now as he unlocked his door and ushered him into the small apartment, Jim couldn’t decide what he should do first. Oswald spared him any agonizing decisions by closing the door and grabbing his coat, pulling him down into a searing kiss that wiped his mind of anything but the taste and feel of kissing Oswald.

Breaking the kiss, Jim took a breath and chuckled.

“What?” Oswald asked, his hands snaking around to undo Jim’s buttons.

“You, taking what you want,” Jim said, reaching up to help with the buttons and slide his coat to the floor. “I like it.”

“Not usually,” Oswald said, moving his hands under Jim’s shirt and pressing cold palms to his stomach.

“I like you taking what you want from me,” Jim amended.

Oswald smirked and slid his hands farther up, running them along Jim’s solid muscle. “Is that so? In that case, where’s the bedroom?”

Jim shivered at Oswald’s low voice and stepped back. “Come on.”

He pulled Oswald through the apartment and into his bedroom, the only light in the room coming from the street light under his window. Leading them to his bed, Jim shucked off his shirt and undid his pants, giving Oswald something to stare at other than the sparse room. Watching Oswald lick his lips, Jim leaned close.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Jim whispered, running his hand down Oswald’s jacket sleeve.

“Where is this going?” Oswald asked, his voice small and unsure.

Jim wanted to kiss his worries away, but he could tell that Oswald needed words right now, words of confirmation about more than just tonight.

“Wherever you want it to go, tonight,” Jim said as he took Oswald’s coat and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. “After that, I guess we’ll figure it out as we go.”

“After?” Oswald’s lip trembled as Jim stepped back towards him and pushed off his suit jacket.

“Yes, after.” Jim turned his attention to Oswald’s buttons. “I might be slow on the uptake, but once I come around, I don’t hold back.”

“Yes, another one of your qualities I admire.” Oswald shivered in the cool air of the room as Jim slid his shirt off.

“I don’t plan on holding back with you either,” Jim said, putting his hands on either side of Oswald’s face and looking into his eyes. “You’ve got gorgeous eyes.”

Oswald blushed and Jim chased the pink color with his lips, sliding them along soft skin while Oswald clung to him and whimpered.

“It’s warmer under the covers,” Jim whispered, reaching down to undo Oswald’s pants.

“I’m, um, not that-” Oswald kept a tight grip on Jim’s arms as he watched his pants fall to the floor. “Not that experienced.”

Jim knelt down to pull off Oswald’s shoes and pants. “Truth be told, neither am I.” He placed the shoes and pants near Oswald’s coat and stood up. “So, figure it out as we go along?”

Nodding in agreement, Oswald pushed at Jim’s trousers. “These need to be off.”

Jim obliged while Oswald crawled into the bed, hissing slightly at the coolness of the sheets. Throwing his clothes to the side to worry about later, Jim climbed into the bed and pulled Oswald close, pressing their lips together while his hands explored every inch of Oswald’s soft skin.

“Oh, Jim,” Oswald gasped.

Jim wound his hands up Oswald’s back and into his hair, licking at the seam of his lips until they parted with a sigh. Long fingers tangled in Jim’s hair while he explored Oswald’s mouth, holding him close and massaging his scalp. He broke the kiss to pepper small nips down Oswald’s throat and each gasp and moan sent a spike of pleasure straight to his cock.

“I need you,” Jim breathed, his hands skimming along Oswald’s side and over the curve of his hip.

Oswald rolled over, pulling Jim on top of him with surprising strength. “Say it again.”

Jim leaned down, caging Oswald’s head between his arms. “I need you.”

Watching Oswald’s eyes dilate and his skin flush pink, Jim lowered his head and kissed him, pouring his need and desire into the action until Oswald pushed him away.

“Do you have, supplies?” Oswald asked, his fingers fluttering across Jim’s neck and torso, as if still afraid to touch.

Jim reached across to his nightstand and pulled out a condom and lube. “Supplies, check.”

“Ever the boy scout,” Oswald said, rising slightly to latch onto Jim’s neck. His lips sucked at the sensitive skin just above Jim’s collarbone and his teeth dragged against the same spot until he’d formed a purple mark in the shape of his mouth.

Jim touched the area with a hiss and Oswald grinned. His familiar grin normally made Jim want to punch him in the face, but now he returned the wicked expression and ran his hands over Oswald’s torso until his nail caught on one of his nipples.

“Marking me, are you?” Jim asked, twisting the small pink nub between his fingers.

Oswald whimpered and shuddered. “Maybe.”

Jim leaned down and placed his mouth over Oswald’s nipple, sucking and licking as he kept his eyes on Oswald’s face. With his head thrown back, his mouth open, and his eyes fluttering, Oswald looked like a wild fey creature from one of Barbara’s art books, all sharp angles and jagged edges and too beautiful for a mere mortal to resist.

“God, Oswald,” Jim said in a rush. “You’re beautiful.”

A pink tinge traveled down Oswald’s neck to spread across his chest and Jim watched in fascination. He moved forward and planted kisses along Oswald’s sharp collarbones and into the hollow of his throat, keeping his touches soft and tender.

“So beautiful,” Jim whispered, shifting down on the bed to continue his trail of kisses along Oswald’s chest and stomach, all the way down to the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Looking up and moving slowly, Jim pulled at the band and slid the garment off, removing Oswald’s last barrier. He rid himself of his own boxers and slid back to lie between Oswald’s legs, taking care not to bump or jostle his injured leg.

“This okay?” Jim asked, continuing his path of kisses down past Oswald’s hips until he reached the base of Oswald’s cock.

“Mhm,” Oswald managed, his hand reaching out to cup Jim’s face. “I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

Jim looked up and tilted his head. “I can take the edge off, if you’d like.”

“Huh?”

“I can suck you off,” Jim replied, licking his lips at the idea.

While he’d never had much experience with male companionship, Jim knew what he liked and the sight of Oswald’s length leaking pre-cum and flushed a deep pink had his mouth watering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Oswald said as he sat up on his elbows and drew his legs up, wincing at the pull against his knees.

Jim held him still and smiled. “I want to, please?”

“Oh.” Oswald’s breath stuttered as he watched Jim. “The things you could get with that ‘please’ and you use it now?”

Jim rubbed his face against the inside of Oswald’s thigh. “Please?”

“Jim.” Oswald fell back against the pillows. “You can do anything you want.”

“Oh, good to know.” Jim licked a trail back to the base of Oswald’s cock and then up the flushed skin until he could wrap his mouth around the leaking tip.

The bittersweet taste of Oswald enveloped his senses and Jim moaned at the flood of heat through his body. Working his tongue along every inch, Jim memorised the slide and texture and taste. Oswald whimpered and twisted above him and Jim never wanted him to stop making those delightfully obscene sounds. Bringing a hand up, he wrapped it around the root of Oswald’s cock and slid his mouth as far down as he could, sucking and licking until Oswald cried out and shook with the force of his orgasm. A flood of bitter salty fluid hit Jim’s tongue and he kept his throat working to swallow it down. The taste didn’t ruin the experience of having Oswald fall apart at his touch.

When Oswald stopped thrashing, Jim took one last lick at his tip and looked up to see bright, wild eyes staring down at him.

“Did you like that?” Jim asked with a small smile.

“You’re amazing,” Oswald said with a tone of honest wonder and Jim felt his heart clench in his chest.

“You ready for more?” Jim asked, shifting to lie beside Oswald on the bed.

“More?” Oswald asked with surprise.

Jim stroked his cock and brushed it against Oswald’s backside. “I do believe you said ‘anything you want’.”

Pink cheeks and dark eyes sparked more want in Jim’s aching cock and he thrust harder at Oswald’s small nod.

“Can you roll all the way on your side?” Jim asked as he held Oswald’s eyes and continued stroking his eager cock.

Oswald responded by rolling over, draping his leg over and widening the gap between his thighs. Jim reached down and patted his ass, earning an insolent look from Oswald as he shifted to provide more space.

Grabbing the lube from the bedside table, Jim measured out a generous portion onto his fingers and brought the slick digits to the small puckered hole between Oswald’s cheeks.

“This might be a bit uncomfortable at first, alright?” Jim hesitated as he watched Oswald’s shoulders hunch. “Relax, okay? I said at first. It will feel good afterwards.”

Jim waited until he could see Oswald take a deep breath and relax his muscles and then slipped one finger around his entrance. He took his time, sliding the lube first around the outside of Oswald’s hole and then carefully inserting one finger inside. Letting Oswald’s reactions guide him, Jim carefully stretched and massaged the tight passage until Oswald squirmed and moaned against him.

“Ready?” Jim asked, breathless with need.

Oswald turned his head and reached for Jim, bringing him down for a kiss. The kiss was fierce and filthy, their tongues tangling together as Oswald rode Jim’s fingers.

Reaching behind him as they kissed, Jim felt around for the condom and snatched it off the table. He broke the kiss and knelt on the bed, letting Oswald watch as he unwrapped and slid the condom onto his throbbing cock. He could feel how close he was to coming, but he wanted to be deep inside Oswald when it finally happened.

_Wanna spill inside him, feel him clench around me._

“I want to feel you, inside me, hard and thrusting,” Oswald whispered in a rush and Jim grasped the base of his cock to keep from ruining everything.

After spilling more lube on his cock and into Oswald’s spread cleft, Jim positioned the head of his cock against the tight ring of muscle and pushed forward. Oswald cried out and his hands tangled in the sheets.

Jim stopped moving, his jaw clenched as he willed his body not to move. “You okay?”

“Stings,” Oswald said, panting against the pillows.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jim asked, praying for mercy.

Oswald shook his head. “No, it’s starting to go away. You can move again.”

Placing a hand on his twisted leg, Jim slid forward, moving slow and keeping a close eye on Oswald’s breathing. There were a couple of stutters, but when Jim stopped, Oswald would wave him on. Time stood still as Jim eased his way inside Oswald, the torturous pace almost bringing him to the brink.

Seated fully inside Oswald, Jim leaned over and placed a kiss at the base of his spine. “So good, so perfect.”

Oswald hummed. “It’s strange, but good.”

Running his hands through Oswald’s thoroughly mussed hair, Jim leaned back and pulled out slightly, rocking back and forth and bringing a gasps from Oswald with every movement.

“Feel so good, oh God, Oswald.” Jim stopped and took a breath. “I’m so close.”

Oswald reached back and cupped Jim’s face in his hand, long fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “Please, Jim.”

“Oh, that’s not fair,” Jim moaned, rocking forward with more force.

Oswald cried out and clenched his jaw. “When have I ever played fair?”

Jim laughed. “Point.”

Grasping Oswald’s hips, he pulled out almost completely and thrust back inside, feeling Oswald squeeze against his entire length. Oswald’s cries filled his bedroom as Jim pounded against him and when Oswald shuddered and clenched tight, he couldn’t take anymore. His orgasm ripped through him as he buried himself deep within Oswald.

“Oz, Oz. Oh, God. Yes, yes!” Jim collapsed on top of Oswald, spent and shaking from the force of his orgasm.

“Jim, you’re crushing me,” Oswald panted, patting his back.

Groaning with the need to move, Jim pulled out slowly and took off the full condom, tying it and throwing it in the nearby wastebasket.

Throwing himself down next to Oswald, he huffed and blew hair out of his face. “Well?"

“Well, what?” Oswald asked, rolling on top of Jim and then over again, nestling against his side while he kept pressure off his bad leg.

“Worth the work of all those presents?” Jim asked, giving Oswald a cheeky grin.

Oswald slapped Jim’s chest. “They were gifts, not favors.”

Jim grabbed his hand and brought it to his lips. “I know, I’m sorry.” He reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Oswald’s ear. “Also kind of sorry I’m a blind idiot.”

“Only kind of?” Oswald gave a smirk and placed his head on Jim’s chest.

“Well, I did get cookies and coffee and a really nice coat out of the whole thing,” Jim said, earning another slap to his chest.

He looked over at the clock and whistled. “It’s Christmas.”

Oswald raised his head enough to confirm the news and settled back down. “It’s not Christmas until we sleep and wake up again.”

“Sleep sounds good,” Jim said, closing his eyes as his hand traced lazy circles on Oswald’s back. “Morning blow jobs are my specialty.”

Oswald’s chuckle vibrated through his chest and Jim basked in the warm glow of satiated happiness.

Jim smiled in the darkness, sleep overtaking him as he laid out his morning plans. He planned on waking Oswald up by sucking his cock and then another session of sex. They could shower and get breakfast and maybe make out on the couch and Jim could find another opportunity to get Oswald’s cock in his mouth again and...


End file.
